


Recurrent Memory

by BeanBean8



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Gen, Hallucinations, Happy Deathday Jason, Hurt/Comfort, It was April 27 when I started writing this, Mental Instability, Mentions of Arkham Asylum, Mentions of Murder, Not beta read we die like robins, Past Character Death, idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanBean8/pseuds/BeanBean8
Summary: Flashback- ‘Personal experiences that pop into your awareness, without any conscious, premeditated attempt to search and retrieve this memory.’It’s that anniversary, and Jason decides to patrol alone.(Written for the anniversary of his death, only I finished it at like 1 am the day after. Because I’m like that.)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 63





	Recurrent Memory

Going on patrol had been a horrible idea. This day, it had always gotten to him, creeping up like mould once a year. Last year, he’d been safely hidden away on the island with Roy and Kori, hadn’t even noticed the day go by in their secluded spot of paradise. The year before, Arkham.

Never ending laughter, twisting and curling in the haze of drugs that kept his mind cloudy for months on end. Jason took a deep breath and shook his head. He was already falling into the memories of green and crowbars. Thoughts about Arkham would have to wait a night. It wasn’t hard to imagine all his traumas lined up, taking turns to beat him over the head.

He had gone out (against his better judgement) to patrol for a short while. Nothing serious, just a few drug dealers to scare away. The rogues were all locked up, no one new had appeared lately, and crime had hit a low for the past few months. So surely, a harmless patrol would have been the best idea, to try and pull his mind away from a distant long-gone warehouse.

About half an hour later, he had realised his mistake. Laughter pressed against his mind, and his paranoia was rearing its ugly head. Already, he’d almost shot a cat who’d knocked over a bin behind him. It was getting hard to tell where the laughter was coming from, behind him or in his head?

He took another deep breath in a futile effort to calm himself. He shouldn’t have come out tonight. His chest ached, the sensation of phantom bruises blossoming over his ribs and shoulders. If he took a second to focus on it, he could feel long dried blood dripping from the ghostly welts on his back. Jason bit his lip, and tasted dirt.

Something moved behind him. A rat? The Joker? Either way, Jason wasn’t about to let his guard down. A flick of his thumb to undo the catch on his holster, a quick grab of the handle, a finger pulling the safety back and he had spun around with his gun pointed at the intruder.

Nightwing stared back at him with a concerned expression.

“I’m fine.” Jason spat out, the words tasting like mud and ash. He was fine. He had to be fine. Not being fine got him sent to Arkham. And he couldn’t face another trip there.

“Jay, you’re clearly not…” Nightwing had his palms out, but it was little comfort. He knew that the vigilante could switch to an offensive attack in less than a second. His soft smile seemed too wide, too red, an unnerving grin that shifted in and out of focus.

_‘Come on now birdboy, you’re not going to sleep already are you? The party’s just got started.’_

“I said…. I’m fine.” The gun didn’t move. It could easily be a hallucination, he had those sometimes, when reality seemed too far away. Nightwing took a step forward, and the gun began to shake as distant memories of shocks seized his fingers. His hair faded to a familiarly sickly shade of green, and then back again. A finger rested on the trigger, it would be so easy to pull it, if only the strength hadn’t drained from his body.

“It’s ok Jay. Let’s get you home, ok?” The Nightwing shaped figure offered, his smile clearly false. It tugged apart at the seams, blood red lips frozen on a white face. Cackles whispered at his ears, the breathless but joyful cackle from the warehouse, the hoarse laughter of the Asylum, leftover screams of the pit.

_‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to Uncle Joker.’_

“STAY AWAY!” He felt the words leave his mouth, the strain in his throat, but they didn’t meet his ears. A ticking timer, luminous red numbers counting down to an inevitable explosive end. Sound felt heavy, faded, metal wheels on a tiled floor, the taste of vomit.

“It’s just me Littlewing. You’re gonna be alright.” The figure promised, luminous green lies seeping through chipped and broken teeth. His throat hurt, filling up with blood that wasn’t there.

“STAY AWAY. I’M NOT GOING BACK THERE!” The threat was real, whatever threat he was implying. Walls of an Ethiopian warehouse closed in on him, morphing into green that licked at his ankles and screamed in his head. His feet were bare on a concrete floor, pressing against a metal door that felt far too cold. The weight of his arms trapped around his chest threatened to crush him, yet his pistol was still raised. All it would take was the strength to pull against the trigger. He had that strength.

_‘This is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me.’_

Jason’s vision swam, a pinprick against his exposed neck. He knew the sensation of sedatives flooding his system, what little grasp of reality he had floating away into the night.

The Nightwing figure was above him, the night sky behind him as if the world had been tipped on its axis. Bone tipped fingers ran over his face, tangling in his matted hair. The figure’s mouth was moving, but it’s words drowned out with a deafening countdown of a bomb. As the number hit its final digit, the world faded away into black and lime green.

* * *

Everything felt too soft. His body was wrapped in something soft, enveloping him in a warmth that reminded him of nights with Bruce beside the fireplace. The bedding, it was bedding, was too soft to indicate prison. The presence of a pillow ruled out Arkham.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. Above him, the ceiling stretched far too high to be his apartment. Ornate, outdated patterns crept upon the edges of the expanse above him. Light wasn’t emanating from the glass decorated ceiling light, instead a soft glow from beside him bathing the room in an orange light. He was at the Manor.

A shadow cast over the wall beside him, human shaped, stretching to the ceiling like the phantoms that so often appeared in his dreams. Jason shifted, and felt his right fingers trapped in the grip of someone. He rolled over, listening to the beak groan and creak under his weight.

Dick was fast asleep in the chair beside him, slouched over the antique fabric and drooling on the velvet cushion. His eyes held heavy bags, and his shirt was clearly a few sizes too big to be his.

“Dick?” Jason asked, his voice dry and rough. It felt as if he’d been screaming, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on how or why.

Two blue eyes looked at him, followed by a soft smile. Friendly. Safe.

“Hey Jay. You awake now?” He whispered. The rest of the room was dark, the curtains wide open. It must have been night time, very late if he had to guess.

“What?.....” Jason mumbled, his voice trailing off.

He’d held a gun to Dick. He’d almost shot his own brother.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out.

“No, no, don’t be sorry.” Dick shook his head firmly and gripped Jason’s hand tighter,rubbing a thumb idly over the top of his hand.

“It’s not your fault. I knew this night would be bad for you, I just didn’t realise quite how bad…”

Jason shook his head and pulled his hand away, burying it securely under the heavy duvet. His eyes felt damp.

“Please don’t put me back in Arkham. Send me anywhere. Anywhere but there.”

Dick looked horrified, his tan skin paling. Hurriedly, he reached out to run his fingers through Jason’s hair, keeping his arm in the view of his brother at all times.

“Shhhh Littlewing, no one’s sending you away.” He whispered.

Jason shook his head again.

“I’m insane. I thought you were…… _him_ …”

The covers shifted in front of him, and a slim figure slid into the bed beside him. Dick pulled Jason’s head to his chest, keeping his arms securely around him with no intention of letting go.

“It’s ok Jay. It’s a rough day. But it’s almost a new one, and we can work things out from there.”

His brother’s heartbeat pounded against his ear, the countdown and the laughter now a more distant memory. As fingers danced in his tangled locks and ran up and down his back, Jason took a deep breath and leaned into the embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Joker quotes taken directly from the Death in the Family comic.
> 
> I have no idea what canon is but I spat out this disaster anyway.
> 
> I’m on Tumblr! Feel free to chat!  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bean-bean-8


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